Chapter 10 Hottie In The Morning
KARA’S POV
I wake up to a sound that doesn’t belong to the night.
A soft clatter, metal against ceramic, followed by the low hiss of a burner coming to life. For a moment, I think I’m still dreaming, caught somewhere between sleep and memory, where his scent still lingers on my skin, and the echo of his touch hasn’t faded yet, then the smell reaches me.
It’s warm, savory, comforting, and something rich and familiar, curling through the air like a quiet promise.
I stir beneath the sheets, the blanket heavy around my body as I sit up slowly. Morning light spills through the open windows, pale gold and gentle, painting the room in soft edges. The ocean hums in the distance, steady and calm, as if nothing reckless happened here last night. I stand as the blanket dragging behind me, and step toward the doorway.
That’s when I see him.
His back is to me, broad and solid as he stands in front of the stove, one hand resting on the counter, and the other stirring whatever he’s cooking. He’s wearing nothing but loose sweatpants, hanging low on his hips, and the sight steals the air from my lungs.
His back is a canvas of ink, and it’s a very nice view.
Tattoos stretch across his shoulders, down his spine, intricate lines and shadows moving with every shift of muscle. Even from behind, he looks devastating, strong, unapologetic, and entirely too real for something that feels like it should have stayed a mistake. Heat creeps up my cheeks before I can stop it.
As if he senses me, he speaks without turning around.
“Good morning,” he says, voice still rough, still warm, like it hasn’t fully woken up yet.
I freeze.
“You’re awake.”
“I—” My voice comes out softer than I expect. “I heard you.”
He glances over his shoulder, eyes catching mine, and smiles. Not the sharp, commanding smile I know from work. This one is slower, easier, and more dangerous.
“Come sit,” he says, nodding toward the chair by the counter. “Before the food gets cold.”
I tighten the blanket around myself and walk over, every step feeling too intimate, and too aware. I sit where he points, knees tucked in, and try very hard not to think about how natural it feels to be here. He then plates the food and sets it in front of me as the clink of ceramic grounds me.
“Eat,” he says gently.
I look up at him, at the way the morning light softens his features, and suddenly the weight of last night crashes back in.
“Sir… about last night—” I begin, fingers curling into the edge of the blanket. My heart pounds as I try to find the right words. The responsible ones. “It shouldn’t have—”
He cuts me off by leaning in, pressing a quick kiss to the tip of my nose, and my breath stutters.
“Eat your food, woman,” he says, a faint smile playing on his lips.
My heart jumps traitorously in my chest. I stare at him, stunned, as he straightens and turns back to the stove like he didn’t just undo me with something so simple.
I eat in silence, stealing glances at him when I think he’s not looking. He moves around the kitchen with an ease that makes this all feel too domestic and too intimate for something that’s supposed to be wrong.
When we’re done, he drives me home.
The ride is quiet, but not awkward. The kind of quiet that’s heavy with things left unsaid. His hand rests on the steering wheel, steady, while I watch the road disappear beneath us.
When the gates of our exclusive village come into view, my chest tightens.
“Here’s fine,” I say softly.
He nods and pulls over. I open the door, step out, then hesitate.
“Thank you,” I say, meaning more than just the ride.
He looks at me then, really looks at me, and something unreadable passes through his eyes.
“Get some rest, Kara.”
The car drives away before I can say anything else.
And as I watch it disappear down the road, I realize something that scares me more than last night ever could.
I already miss him.
That morning, I still went to work. As if nothing happened and as if I didn’t wake up wrapped in another man’s sheets, breathing in a life that wasn’t supposed to touch mine.
The building feels colder than usual when I step inside. Too bright and too sharp. Every sound feels amplified, and every passing glance makes my shoulders stiffen. I keep my head down, my grip tight around the folder pressed against my chest, reminding myself to breathe.
Just another day and just work. But the illusion cracks the moment I reach Ma’am Salvador’s table. She doesn’t greet me, and she doesn’t even look at the documents I carefully place in front of her. Instead, she lifts her eyes slowly, deliberately, and pins me in place with a sharp, cutting glance that makes my spine go rigid.
“Kara,” she says, her voice calm but edged with something dangerous. “This is just a warning.”
My fingers curl slightly at my sides.
“A warning?” I echo, confused as my heartbeat suddenly became loud in my ears.
She leans back in her chair, crossing her arms, lips curling into something that almost looks like a smile, but isn’t. It’s colder than that, and it’s calculated.
“You need to make sure you don’t fall into his trap,” she continues, her tone dropping. “Or you’ll be his slave forever.”
The words hit me like a slap.
“I—” My throat tightens. “M-Ma’am, I don’t understand what you mean.”
She laughs then. Not amused and not kind. A short, sarcastic sound that feels like it’s meant to humiliate.
“Oh, you really don’t?” she says, tilting her head, eyes dragging over me in a way that makes my skin crawl. “You young girls always think you’re special.”
My cheeks burn, but this time it isn’t heat, it’s fear.
“I don’t know what you’re accusing me of,” I say quietly, forcing the words out even as my hands start to tremble.
Her smile sharpens.
“I wasn’t the only one who saw you last night.”
The world stops. My breath catches, my chest tightening as if the air has suddenly thinned around me.
“S-saw me?” I whisper.
She straightens, gathering her papers with deliberate slowness and already dismissing me.
“Be careful, Kara,” she says lightly, like she’s offering advice instead of a threat. “Men like him don’t play fair.”
Then she stands, brushes past me without another word, as her shoulder grazes mine just enough to remind me how small I suddenly feel.
I stay there, frozen beside her table as my heart is pounding violently against my ribs.
She saw me, and she wasn’t the only one.
Last night flashes behind my eyes. String lights, the sea, his hand in mine, and the way I followed him without looking back. My stomach twists. I don’t know who else saw, and I don’t know what they think they know. All I know is that whatever happened last night didn’t stay there.
For the first time since morning, the warmth I woke up with is completely gone.